DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0043
THE STUDIO OE WILHELM VON KAULBACH.
27
rises in the gloom the huge Tower. The throne is sup-
ported by grotesquely carved figures of dogs; on either
hand arise clouds of perfume, from tall incense-burners;
the throne has been surmounted by idols of the sun and
moon. But Jehovah, and his avenging angels, darting
forth from a cloud, keen forked lightnings,have smitten the
baleful forms, which, falling upon the marble steps, have
slain Nimrod’s two sons, who lie crushed beneath them.
The curse has fallen in truth upon the tyrant. He sits
there between his mutilated gods, with his dead sons at his
feet, with his wife prostrate before him and them, beseech-
ing him wildly to acknowledge the power of the unknown
God, with his courtiers, priests, and minstrels on either
hand, taunting, scoffing, conjuring him to renounce his idol-
worship, his tyranny : but he neither hears nor sees—he
only feels the curse. In the swollen muscles of his brawny
arms and chest, in his hands clenched on his knees, in his
cruel, proud, lion face, in his quivering foot, yon read a
dumb bewilderment! Through his brain ring the words,
“ How art thou fallen, Lucifer, son of the morning ! How
art thou cut down who didst weaken the nations ! Thou
hast said in thy heart I will ascend into heaven; I will
exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will be like the
Most High ! Yet thou art brought down to hell, to the
sides of the pit.”
The curse has fallen also upon the tower. On all sides
fly the workmen, in wild haste, leaping from the scaffold-
ing, which breaks beneath them, letting themselves drop
from the steep walls of the basement. All is bewilderment,
frantic confusion. A woman meeting three men yoked like
beasts to a load of ponderous stone, which they are dragging
up an inclined plane, urged on by a fiendish taskmaster,
shouts to them the astounding doom but the sounds of
her own voice seem to appal her: her bps look petrified,
her hands are raised towards her mouth in astonishment.
27
rises in the gloom the huge Tower. The throne is sup-
ported by grotesquely carved figures of dogs; on either
hand arise clouds of perfume, from tall incense-burners;
the throne has been surmounted by idols of the sun and
moon. But Jehovah, and his avenging angels, darting
forth from a cloud, keen forked lightnings,have smitten the
baleful forms, which, falling upon the marble steps, have
slain Nimrod’s two sons, who lie crushed beneath them.
The curse has fallen in truth upon the tyrant. He sits
there between his mutilated gods, with his dead sons at his
feet, with his wife prostrate before him and them, beseech-
ing him wildly to acknowledge the power of the unknown
God, with his courtiers, priests, and minstrels on either
hand, taunting, scoffing, conjuring him to renounce his idol-
worship, his tyranny : but he neither hears nor sees—he
only feels the curse. In the swollen muscles of his brawny
arms and chest, in his hands clenched on his knees, in his
cruel, proud, lion face, in his quivering foot, yon read a
dumb bewilderment! Through his brain ring the words,
“ How art thou fallen, Lucifer, son of the morning ! How
art thou cut down who didst weaken the nations ! Thou
hast said in thy heart I will ascend into heaven; I will
exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will be like the
Most High ! Yet thou art brought down to hell, to the
sides of the pit.”
The curse has fallen also upon the tower. On all sides
fly the workmen, in wild haste, leaping from the scaffold-
ing, which breaks beneath them, letting themselves drop
from the steep walls of the basement. All is bewilderment,
frantic confusion. A woman meeting three men yoked like
beasts to a load of ponderous stone, which they are dragging
up an inclined plane, urged on by a fiendish taskmaster,
shouts to them the astounding doom but the sounds of
her own voice seem to appal her: her bps look petrified,
her hands are raised towards her mouth in astonishment.